


Snow

by unwillingadventurer



Category: Callan (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwillingadventurer/pseuds/unwillingadventurer
Summary: Callan and Meres' work is interrupted by the presence of a bad snow storm.





	Snow

The snow fell rapidly, covering the grounds of the manor house and producing a beautiful white landscape. Callan couldn’t see its beauty as he stood by the window. As he looked upon the scene he could only see the problems the blasted snow brought them. Just how were he and Meres able to protect and transport their charge? They’d been in the house only half a day and the weather had caught them unaware.

Meres entered the room and stood behind Callan at the window. “I say its really coming down out there, David, old boy.”

Callan sighed. “Really Toby? Snowing is it? I never would have guessed having been standing at this window for twenty minutes. Where’s Ashcroft?”

“Someone’s in a temper. Ashcroft’s fine. He’s a little…tied up at the moment.” With a smirk on his face, Meres circled his colleague.

Nodding his head, in no mood for Meres’ teasing, Callan paced the length of the room and scrunched his fists up. “This is bloody brilliant. I was meant to be going somewhere later.”

“Hot date, David?”

Callan glared at him and didn’t reply. His personal life was just that- personal. And he had no intention of telling everyone in the section what he did or didn’t do away from work- not that much of his life was separate from the stresses of the job. 

“Didn’t think so, you told me Lonely was on the road. Don’t tell me its something to do with your toy soldiers?”

“Haven’t you got anything better to do than interrogate me?”

Meres sat down and placed his feet upon the coffee table. “But its so tempting where you’re concerned. And Ashcroft is an old school-bore, David, terrible company.”

Callan resumed his lingering look at the snow and then sighed. 

“Relax, old son, a watched pot never boils.”

“Listen mate,” Callan said as he approached his colleague. “Every minute we’re stuck here, we’re in extreme danger. Ashcroft needs to be moved, but in this weather we’d be lucky to move a few feet.”

“True. But you must admit there is some…beauty in the snow? Reminds me of my childhood.”

Callan laughed. “Did nanny wheel you outside in a golden pram?”

Meres tutted and when he saw Callan glance at the window yet again, he raced over and pulled him away. Callan shoved him. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

“We’re meant to be guarding Ashcroft but in a minute there’s going to be a murder, old boy, and it won’t be him.”

With a disdainful look at Meres, Callan relented and glanced instead at the monitor screen linked up to the camera in Ashcroft’s room. They’d been watching him since they’d arrived and he was locked in a room upstairs. “He really is tied up Toby? Was there any need for that? There’s bloomin’ bars on the windows and the doors locked.”

“He kept trying to escape. If you want to sit in there with him, babysitting the old beggar, be my guest. You could read him a bedtime story if you like. I’m sure he’s fine anyway. Do you really think they’ll risk coming here to collect him in this weather?”

“Oh yes because the Russians can’t take the snow, can they?” He shot Meres a look.

There was an awkward chilly silence then as the two men sat across from one another in the large living room, staring around in contemplation. It was going to be a long day.

Callan rubbed his arms, wrapping his coat around him for warmth. “Could do with some heat in here.”

“I’ll put the fire on if you like, make things all nice and cosy.”

There was a brief smug smile from Callan before it disappeared again. “Could you just do that, Toby, alright? Perhaps without the running commentary.”

Meres laughed and tended to the old fireplace in the corner of the room. Not before long there were bright orange flames warming them, and Callan felt the heat redden his cheeks. Within moments, he could even remove his woollen scarf. In his anxiety, he kept the coat on in case he needed a sudden chase through the snow.

Sitting back down upon the armchair, feet upon the coffee table, Meres began to whistle. He continued as he kept one eye on the monitor screen and scratched his other eye-lid with his gun. Callan glanced at the window.

“Won’t have vanished yet, David. The forecast said this snow would last until at least tomorrow morning. I say, I hope your old pal Lonely took precautions. We might just find the cab tomorrow with him frozen solid inside.”

“Oh, leave it out, Toby.”

“Still we can always follow the scent to get back.”

Callan slammed his fist onto the edge of the sofa. “You know, I’m really starting to get a headache.”

“Try and relax. So anyway, what’s this thing you’ve got to get back for?”

There was uncomfortable shuffle as Callan attempted to avoid Meres’ piercing gaze. It was the personal questions again. 

“I’ll keep asking, David.”

“It’s a date, alright, Toby, a date! Well more of a dinner really, nothing special.”

Meres’ lips curled into a smile and he leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me more. What’s she like?”

“Out of your league, mate.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. You’re not the only one who had plans you know? Hunter said this would be wrapped up by now. And no-one was predicting the worst snow in years. Those weather forecasters need to learn to do their jobs properly.”

“Yeah, what were your plans then?”

“Had a date too,” Meres said, sipping his tea which had now gone cold. He grimaced. 

“She’s had a lucky escape then.”

“For all we know, we could’ve been seeing the same bit of skirt.”

“Get out of it, Toby, we don’t like the same birds.”

“True.”

Silence again. Callan took a glance at the monitor and could see Ashcroft curled up in the chair. “Aw bless him, he’s having a kip. Do you suppose we should get him a cup of tea or something?”

“Maybe.”

“Put the kettle on, Toby.”

“It wouldn’t suit me!”

Callan raised his gun at him. “Just do it. I’m getting rather irritated with your lip, mate.”

With a salute, Meres left the room and Callan focused his attentions to the monitor, watching for several moments as Ashcroft lay asleep in his chair- his chest moving slowly up and down. He could feel his own eyelids closing and they were so heavy he felt he could sleep for days given half the chance. He’d almost completely closed his eyes when Meres burst through the door, carrying a tray of tea and singing a tiresome tune. Callan jumped.

Meres placed the tray on the table. “Tea for two, and I found some biscuits in case you feel peckish, old boy.”

“Just take Ashcroft his, will you?”

Meres sighed, taking the cup in his hands. He wondered if the wonderful and mighty Callan could ever do it himself!

He climbed the stairs two at a time and revelled in running whilst not spilling a single drop of the tea. At the top of the stairs, he reached the bedroom, unlocked the door, and placed the cup gently on the side next to the sleeping Ashcroft. Meres tilted his head to the side. “Peaceful sleeping baby,” he said with a whisper before exiting, locking the door behind him and running back down the stairs to re-join Callan. This time he sat next to him on the sofa and smiled. 

“It’s like our little child up there, David.”

“Cor blimey, that’s a terrifying thought. You mother or father?”

“Well seeing as I’m the one up and down those stairs like a yo-yo, I suppose I’m the mother. And its true I’m much prettier.”

Callan laughed as he sipped his tea. “That is a matter of opinion.”

Their eyes met and their smiles turned into strong laughter. After they composed themselves, there was a brief pause.

Finally, Callan sniffed. “Did your nanny really used to take you out in the snow then?”

“Of course, David,” Meres replied, sipping his tea and placing it back on the saucer. “You don’t think we were cooped up in the nursery all day, do you?”

“I used to play out in the stuff myself. All the kids on our estate, y’know? You love the stuff when you’re young though. It’s not so great when you have a job to do.”

Meres gripped his gun that had previously been carelessly abandoned on the coffee table next to the bourbon biscuits. “I have a sudden bad feeling about this.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally caught up. We’re vulnerable here, Toby. We have no clue what’s going on out there and no word from Charlie. We’re sitting ducks.”

It was at the mention of their vulnerability when there was a crashing noise from outside and Meres immediately sprung up from the seat, gripping his gun, and standing in front of Callan as though instinctively to protect him. He ran to the window then, stood behind the curtain and peered out. “Can’t see a damned thing.”

Callan moved to the other curtain and peered around. “There’s some marks in the snow there. We didn’t come that way.”

“So, somebody’s here.”

“You do a search of the upstairs, I’ll do downstairs.”

Meres obeyed and smirked. “I’ll check on the baby while I’m there, David.”

“Just do it!” Callan raised his gun at him again, aiming right for his smug smile.

Whilst Meres checked upstairs, Callan made his way toward the front door, hiding first behind the large ornate pillars that adorned the passageway. He’d only just reached the door when there was a sudden loud knocking upon it. He froze to the spot and leaned back. His fingers tightened around his gun.

How could someone be knocking? No one ever knocked. The KGB certainly wouldn’t be knocking on doors.

“Mr. Callan!” the voice behind the door said. “Are you in there, Mr. Callan?”

Just great, Callan thought. It was Lonely. Bloomin’ Lonely. 

Callan threw open the door and with force, grabbed Lonely by the scruff of his neck, pulling him into the hallway. He looked around outside before slamming the door behind them and placed his gun in his pocket.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m freezing, Mr. Callan.” Lonely’s body was trembling and his face was red from the cold. His speech was also starting to slur.

“I can see that. You drove the cab in this weather?”

“You told me to, Mr. Callan. I was only following your orders. Trouble was, I got lost in the blizzard and my fingers were so froze like that I could barely touch the steering wheel. I got out and walked the rest of the way. I was doing my best, Mr. Callan, honestly I was.”

“Yeah. Course you were.” Callan shoved him into the living room and pushed him in front of the roaring fire. “Warm yourself up, you’ll die of bloody pneumonia!”

Lonely held his hands in front of the flames. “Ta, Mr. Callan, now that does feel good.” He made his way toward the table and eyed the biscuits. “Had nothing to eat neither. And me fingers feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

Callan sighed as he watched Lonely’s dirty fingers, uncovered by filthy fingerless gloves. The dirty fingers scooped up three biscuits and he devoured them in seconds, crumbs falling onto the floor.

“You see anyone else about?”

“It’s a blizzard and a half, Mr. Callan, who’s I’m gonna see in this?”

“I meant near the house. The kind of people who don’t care about a few measly snowflakes. Did you see anyone outside?”

“Gawd no, Mr. Callan. It’s as quiet as anything out there except the wind like.”

“Yeah.” 

Callan heard a noise on the stairs and held his gun to the door. He relaxed when he saw Meres peering around the wood, also holding his weapon. 

“It’s alright mate, it’s just Lonely,” Callan said.

“I could tell from the stench in the hall. I followed your aroma,” Meres said, peering at Lonely, “snow didn’t cover the smell then?”

“It made it worse.”

“Leave it, Toby. He’s been out in it a while. He’s abandoned the cab.”

“Did he see anyone?”

“No, quiet as a soul, Mr. Meres,” Lonely replied, munching on another biscuit. Meres watched the man’s dirty fingers holding the biscuit. He sneered.

After Lonely finished eating, he sat down on the sofa next to Callan and peered at the monitor screen. “Here, how’s that fella meant to drink his tea when his hands are tied up?”

Callan sighed and looked at Meres. 

Meres held his hands up in defeat. “I know I know, I’ll go and feed the baby. Honestly, David, sometimes it feels I’m the only one in this relationship.”

He quickly slid out of the door smiling before Callan had the chance to throw a cushion at him.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, Mr. Callan, I really don’t.” He took a sip of Meres’ tea. “Cor that’s stone cold.” 

As Callan’s fingers reached for his temples in order to ebb the tension away there was a loud gunshot sound and a kerfuffle coming from upstairs and within seconds Callan’s eyes darted back and forth from the ceiling to the monitor. Lonely meanwhile had dived for cover behind the sofa. 

On the screen, Callan could see that Meres was lying on the floor and that Ashcroft was no longer in the room. The door was open and he was making an escape. It was at that moment, Callan heard the noise of a window smashing and then saw a figure jumping down onto the ground outside. Callan leapt to his feet and cocked his gun. “Right, Lonely, Lonely?”

“Yes Mr. Callan?” Lonely asked as he sheepishly peered around the sofa. 

“I’m going outside. Go and check on Meres.”

He twiddled his thumbs. “Oh, but must I Mr. Callan?”

Callan’s exasperated expression was enough to convince Lonely to get a shift on and he rushed upstairs as fast as his tired legs could take him. When he entered the room, Meres was stirring and rubbing his face and head. He had a gash on his cheek and blood on his shirt.

“Are you alright?” Lonely attempted to help him stand but Meres pushed him away.

“If I want your help I’ll ask for it. Damn bastard knocked me down. I tried to take a shot but he threw the tea cup in my face and then took my gun. Fine hospitality. Where’s Callan?”

“Gone after him.”

Meres immediately rushed from the room, down the stairs at great speed and darted outside and within moments he was in the snow, following two sets of footprints through the white. The tracks led him to a wall lining the perimeter of the house and he spied Callan kneeling down behind it. Meres used his handkerchief to wipe the blood from his cheek.

“He must have scarpered,” Callan said, noticing Meres approach. “Can’t see a thing.” He glanced quickly at him. “You hurt?”

“I’ll live.”

Callan wondered what their next move was. How could everything have gone wrong so quickly? One disastrous thing seemed to lead to another like a domino effect of bad luck. And now here he was with Meres, with no word from the section and they’d lost their charge.

Meres sighed. “Now what?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. How the hell did you lose him?”

“Bastard attacked me when I untied him which if I recall was your idea. Never mind that now anyway, the blighter’s got my gun.”

With that there was a shot fired which hit the wall between them. “Down David!” Meres shouted as they both fell to their stomachs, burying their faces in the snow.

They belly-crawled a few paces and found the bushes adjacent to the front steps. 

“Not scarpered then,” Meres said before glancing at Callan. “You alright?”

“Yeah, terrific. Did you see where he was?”

“Can’t see a blasted thing.” Meres wiped snow from his hair and eyes and tried not to show Callan he was shivering in his blazer and trousers, having neglected to collect his coat from the bannister.

“You cold mate?”

“Now you mention it, old son, it’s a bit nippy out here.”

Callan took off his overcoat and handed it to him. “Here.”

“But won’t you freeze?”

“Got a warm cardigan on.”

“Thermals too?” Meres asked before grinning and placing Callan’s coat on. He buttoned it up to the top. “How do I look?”

There were times when Callan could really do without Meres’ cavalier attitude. He sighed. “Keep your mind on the job, Toby.”

“All I can see is snow, David. So, unless we carry on and leave the estate, I suggest we go back inside and contact Charlie, see if we can get the damned phoneline to work.”

They surveyed the area for several minutes before Callan finally gave in and the two of them headed toward the front door, crouching down, their feet crunching through the snow. 

“Ashcroft managed to get away on foot,” Callan said. “Lonely must have parked the cab somewhere along that road. We’ll find the geezer. He’ll have to find shelter somewhere.”

“With any hope he’ll freeze to death doing so.”

"This is going to be a bloody long day!" Callan said.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a fic challenge for the prompt 'Weather Forecast'


End file.
